Shoshone Point

Grand Canyon from Shoshone Point

2 miles round trip, 160 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Easy
Access: Paved road to trailhead, Grand Canyon National Park entrance fee required

Most viewpoints along Grand Canyon's South Rim are permanently crowded, but- for the moment- Shoshone Point remains the exception. Why? Unlike the other grand views of the South Rim, such as Mather, Hopi, Grandview, or Yavapai Points, Shoshone Point requires a bit of walking to reach. Additionally, national park-issued literature and signage in the park all gloss over the fact that this viewpoint exists. However, it's just a mile walk along a dirt road to reach this secluded view of the eastern canyon.

It's not fully clear to me why Shoshone Point gets no publicity from the national park, although it may have something to do with the fact that the park currently rents out the viewpoint and its picnic shelter for private events. Apparently Shoshone Point has been the setting of many Grand Canyon weddings.

I hiked to Shoshone Point during a brief winter visit to the Grand Canyon, choosing to watch the sunset there to avoid the crowds packing the better-known viewpoints. From Grand Canyon Village, I took Arizona 64 (Desert View Drive) east. A little over a mile after passing the turnoff for Yaki Point, I pulled off into a dirt parking area on the north side of the road. Although unmarked, this parking area was noticeable and there was a white gate at the far end of the parking lot. This is the unmarked trailhead for Shoshone Point; I parked here, making sure not to block the gate. The trailhead is fairly easy to find even though it's unmarked, as it's the only substantial parking area on the north side of the road along the stretch of Desert View Drive east of Yaki Point.

The trail was simply a dirt road leading through the Ponderosa pine forests of the Coconino Plateau towards the canyon rim. After recent snow, the trail was at points dry dirt, mud, or snow, but the level nature of the road surface made the hike quite easy. Elevation gain was very gradual, with a slight climb as I approached the rim. I saw only two other groups during my hike, a nice change from the crowds of Mather Point, where tourists have to line up to take photos of the canyon.

Dirt road/trail to Shoshone Point

After 15 minutes of walking along the road, the road passed a local high point and began a slight descent. The canyon rim came into view through the ponderosa pines, the angled afternoon rays of the sun painting the upper layers of the North Rim. Soon, I came to the end of the road, where a single-track trail continued leading onward past a picnic shelter to the canyon rim. A bit of descent brought me to the end of the trail, at a ledge with a limestone hoodoo and a sweeping view into one of the most spectacular geological wonders in the world.

Hoodoo at Shoshone Point

What a view! The Grand Canyon is immense and overwhelming, but at first glance our minds often fail to comprehend its true size. With few markers to convey scale, our brains trivialize the canyon; unable to believe that a gorge of such size could exist, our minds attempt to tell us that everything is perfectly normal. The river at the bottom must only 10 or 20 feet wide, we convince ourselves, only to find out later that the river is in fact 300 feet wide, that the canyon is a mile deep, 18 miles wide, and 200 miles long, and that even the greatest urban skylines built by humans would be swallowed whole by this masterpiece of erosion. When Coronado's expedition became the first group of Europeans to see the canyon, they assumed that large boulders in the canyon were the size of men. Scouts who descended into the canyon returned reporting that those boulders were at least as large as the tower of Seville, nearly 200 feet in height. Photos can report the shape of its temples and capture a slice of the magic of light playing on the walls of sandstone, limestone, and shale, but photos do nothing to help one understand the size of the Grand Canyon. It is unfathomable, deeply moving, awesome, terrifying and heartbreakingly inspiring.

Zoroaster Temple aflame with evening light in the Grand Canyon

Shoshone Point had a commanding view towards the eastern part of the canyon, although the western part of the canyon was blocked out in part by nearby Yaki Point. From my lofty perch, I spotted the Colorado River to the east, just before it entered Granite Gorge carved into the Vishnu Schist basement rock of the canyon. Above the river rose the Palisades of the Desert, multi-colored ramparts leading north from the just-barely visible Desert View Watchtower. Wotan's Throne and Vishnu Temple were carved out in the eastern part of the canyon, while closer in, Zoroaster Temple, Brahma Temple, and Buddha Temple were remarkable formations capped by the cream-colored Coconino Sandstone.

The Colorado River flows in Granite Gorge below Shoshone Point, last light on Vishnu Temple

It was a cold day and the wind at the point was fairly strong, but the extraordinary view easily justified the discomfort. I had the point entirely to myself as the sun set and the shadow of the earth gradually filled the sky.

After darkness set, I returned to the trailhead. Looking up, I found a remarkable night sky in this remote locale: above, the Milky Way spilled across the vastness and Orion stood guard in the winter sky with his bright and ever-present canine companion. Far from the city lights, I realized that the Grand Canyon was a good place to contemplate the scale of not just our Earth, but a universe filled with planets governed by the same physical laws as ours, many of which likely sport yet-to-be-discovered immensities.

The Milky Way spilled across the night sky

Oventop Mountain

View of Hazel Mountain and Buck Hollow from Oventop

4 miles round trip, 1100 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Moderate; good navigation skills necessary for bushwhacking, some rock scrambling
Access: Paved road to trailhead; no pass necessary to park

Oventop Mountain is a secret hidden in plain sight. Most visitors to Shenandoah National Park have seen Oventop, even if they're unfamiliar with the name. Rising above Sperryville in the North District of the park, just northeast of Thornton Gap, the peak is a common sight from Piedmont-side overlooks on Skyline Drive near Panorama and is seen by nearly all visitors headed to the Central or North Districts on US 211. In the early days of the park, a trail led along the ridge of this minor peak, but the park ceased maintenance of the trail decades ago, allowing nature to gradually reclaim the mountain. Today, it makes an excellent off-trail, bushwhacking destination for hikers with appropriate skills and experience due to both the ease of accessing this mountain from US 211 and because of the good and unique views of Mary's Rock from outcrops near the summit. Navigational abilities and good map-reading skills are a must; although the hike is not physically very difficult, it's important to understand that there is no longer any trail to follow. While it's possible to hike further and visit all three summits of Oventop, the hike that I'll describe here visits only the main summit and viewpoints on nearby granite slabs.

Oventop is visible from Buck Hollow Overlook on Skyline Drive, just south of Thornton Gap; for me, this multi-peaked ridge has always been a park greeter, welcoming me back to the Blue Ridge. Although Oventop is a fairly rounded and muted ridge, I've long stood at Buck Hollow Overlook and eyed the large granite slabs near the mountain's main peak, which I've always expected would have good views of Mary's Rock and the Hazel Mountain area. Returning to Virginia for the holidays, I decided to tackle Oventop with a friend in the winter to take advantage of the sparse vegetation, which makes for easier bushwhacking. Oventop also seemed a logical choice for us on a day when Skyline Drive was closed due to recent ice and snow.

Oventop (center) viewed from Skyline Drive, with the target rock slab visible along the ridge

I hiked Oventop with a friend on a cold, cold New Year's Eve, during a rare winter when thermometers in Virginia were reading in negative Fahrenheit. Luckily for my friend and I, the temperatures on the day of our hike broke 10 degrees F, making for a relatively toasty day in an abysmally cold winter. We set out from Fredericksburg west on Route 3, stopping at a Sheetz along the way for lunch, a variety of unhealthy snacks, and barely edible hot chocolate. At Culpeper, we followed US 522 to the north and west, passing through Culpeper's revitalized downtown before the Piedmont hill drive that brought us to Sperryville. At Sperryville, we turned left onto US 211 west, following US 211 past the Shenandoah National Park boundary sign. Instead of driving up to Skyline Drive, we drove briefly uphill to a wide left bend in the road with a gravel parking area on the southern (eastbound) side of the road. We pulled into unmarked parking lot and then walked across US 211 to the concrete post marking the lower trailhead for the Pass Mountain Trail. As this trailhead is not on Skyline Drive, it's typically possible to access this hike even if Skyline Drive is closed due to snow.

We started up the Pass Mountain Trail, following the slightly-packed snow of the path through the snow-coated hardwood forest. Near the trailhead, we immediately spotted signs of the park's past, noticing a stone fence built by the mountain settlers who lived in the Blue Ridge until the park's establishment during the Great Depression.

Stone fence built by the former residents of the mountains

The wide trail climbed steadily through the snowy forest, making two switchbacks as it approached a saddle between Oventop and Pass Mountain. The trail had at some point almost certainly been a road, likely built by the mountain settlers to access their homes in the hollows; at one point, up to 10,000 settlers of European descent had lived in the Blue Ridge in what is now the park, building farms, homes, schoolhouses, living off mining, logging, and farming.

Pass Mountain Trail in the snow

At 0.6 miles from the trailhead and after about 400 feet of elevation gain, the trail came to the saddle. Old maps mark a four way intersection here, where no true intersection exists any more: now, the saddle simply marks a turn in the Pass Mountain Trail, which heads west and continues towards the AT and Skyline Drive. The footprints of hikers who had arrived before us all veered off to the left, heading up the Pass Mountain Drive. However, it wasn't hard for us to spot the other two trails that once led out from the saddle. One former trail led downhill, a continuation of the old road we had hiked in on that descended to the north into Thornton Hollow. The other trail, which was faint and unbroken in the snow, led directly uphill to the east along the ridge of Oventop.

The unbroken trail up Oventop

From here on, the hike was a bushwhack to the summit of Oventop. Following the trail trace, we began to work our way up the ridge of Oventop. While the trail may be difficult to find for those lacking extensive off-trail travel, habitual bushwhack enthusiasts will find this to be a relatively easy route. Undergrowth on Oventop was not excessively dense, which allowed us to make fast progress along the ridge.

A dicier stretch of trail

In sections, the trail had become overgrown or obscured, either covered in vegetation or lost completely in groves of mountain laurel. Deadfall was common and footing was uneven since we weren't hiking on a trail. In spots where we lost the trail, we generally stuck to following the ridge, though at one point the trail itself circled to the south side of the ridge before climbing towards the summit. The climb was steady and the summit of Oventop was over 600 feet above the saddle.

We saw many wildlife tracks in the fresh snow, including sets of paw prints that paced both directions on many fallen logs. We weren't able to identify the species identification of the previous hiker on Oventop, though our guess was that it had been a bobcat or a fox.

Animal prints- a bobcat or a fox?

At the true summit of Oventop, we passed a jumble of large boulders, exposing the granite bones of the mountain. Although this was the high point of the ridge, there were only partial views through the trees of the surroundings, so we continued onwards along the ridge towards the south-facing rock slabs, which were on the east end of the main summit.

Rock outcrops at the summit of Oventop

The ridge became substantially rockier as we approached the slabs, forcing us to stick to the south side of the ridge and work through thickets of mountain laurel. Soon, we caught sight of the granite slabs just downhill of where we stood on the ridge and we made our way down a small gully to the rocks themselves, doing a bit of scrambling along the way. Once out on the slabs, we had a wide and rarely-enjoyed view of Mary's Rock, the Pinnacle, and Hazel Mountain. Snow on the ground accentuated the layered ridges of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Marys Rock, the Pinnacle, and Buck Hollow from Oventop

The slabs also offered a sweeping view of the Piedmont. We could see portions of Sperryville at the foot of Oventop, US 211 running below us towards Thornton Gap, and the rolling hills of the Piedmont. Notable features included the Southwest Mountains on the horizon, which run just northeast of Charlottesville, and Thoroughfare Mountain in Madison County. We enjoyed the views for a while until the cold forced us to start moving again.

View into the Piedmont from Oventop

Before heading back, we explored a bit more of the ridgeline area near the granite slabs. We found one decent north-facing viewpoint outcrop from which we could see down in Thornton Hollow and across to Pignut, Hogsback, the Marshalls, and the Peak. Looking out into the Piedmont in this direction, we spotted the Bull Run Mountains out by Haymarket in the distance.

Hogback, Mount Marshall, and the Peak

There were a number of other outcrops near the summit that would probably have been accessible by scrambling in less slippery conditions, but we chose to play it safe considering that we were off trail with snow on the ground. If you hike here in dry conditions, it may be possible to find a few more nice viewpoints. Additionally, the route continues along Oventop's ridge to its lower two summits; the last summit has a sharp rock outcrop that is visible from Skyline Drive that is also likely to have decent views. On a sub-freezing day, we chose not to continue to the end of the ridge, but there's plenty of exploring that one can do on Oventop and plenty of forgotten but beautiful views that few Shenandoah visitors see today.

V-bar-V Petroglyphs

Sinagua calendar petroglyph at V-bar-V

1 mile round trip, 50 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Easy
Access: Mostly paved road to trailhead (short stretch of gravel), Red Rocks Pass required

The little-known V-bar-V Heritage Site in Arizona's Coconino National Forest, just south of Sedona, hosts the most extensive known collection of Sinagua petroglyphs. Carved into a rock face near the constant water source of Wet Beaver Creek, the V-bar-V petroglyphs include at least 1000 symbols chiseled by Native Americans, perhaps over the course of hundreds or thousands of years. It's a magical spot to contemplate how humans have found a way in this desert landscape for millenia. The catch is that the site is rarely open: the hike is only accessible from 9:30 AM to 3 PM from Friday through Monday to protect this extraordinary archaelogical site. However, if you're nearby when the site is open, I highly recommend stopping and making the mile round-trip walk to the petroglyphs.

The Sinagua were a culture that inhabited Arizona between about 500 and 1500 AD; they lived in the general vicinity of the Mogollon Rim, the geographic transition between the Colorado Plateau to the north and the southerly Sonoran Desert. Absent from the dwellings that they had built by the time Europeans arrived in the area, their current name derives from the Spanish name for the San Francisco Peaks north of Flagstaff- "sin agua," or "without water." The Sinagua likely picked up farming practices from the Hohokam to the south and had many cultural similarities to the Ancestral Puebloans of the Colorado Plateau to the north. Today's Hopi, who live on the drier mesas of the Painted Desert, claim the Sinagua as ancestors.

I hiked this trail on a weekend afternoon as I drove south from the Flagstaff area back towards Phoenix. I left I-17 at exit 298, but instead of following the crowds north along Arizona Route 179 to Oak Creek and Sedona, I headed to the east and south instead, following a narrow, potholed paved road leading towards Beaver Creek and V-bar-V. The road was well signed and after four miles of driving I crossed two bridges over Wet Beaver Creek and arrived at the entrance for the V-bar-V site. The gate at the entrance to the site closes at 3; after passing the gate, the last few hundred yards of road are gravel, leading to large parking lot. A Red Rocks Pass (valid in the Sedona area) or a federal lands pass is required for parking.

From the parking area, the trail led downhill to a small visitor center and a chimney marking the site of a house on the former V-bar-V Ranch. The V-bar-V name comes from the symbol branded on cattle at the ranch, which consisted of two vertically stacked Vs separated by a bar. The petroglyphs in the area were first known to the ranchers here but lay in relative obscurity until the Forest Service bought up part of the ranch in the 1990s.

Chimney remnant from V-bar-V ranch

From the the chimney, a wide path meandered south, never straying too far from the riparian zone around Wet Beaver Creek. The trail traced the west edge of a wide, open field, with nice views of hills rising up from the Wet Beaver Creek valley. Interpretive signs along the way noted that this field and nearby hillsides had likely been used for agriculture by the Sinagua; the hillslopes had been terraced for farming corn, beans, and squash.

Wet Beaver Creek valley

A half-mile down the trail, I arrived at the petroglyphs, which were chiseled into a large rock face, protected by a high fence. The petroglyphs themselves were cordoned off with rope to prevent visitors from coming directly up to the carvings and touching them. A ranger docent was onsite to oversee visitors and provide context on the petroglyphs.

Sinagua Petroglyphs at V-bar-V

The petroglyphs were extraordinary. Over 1000 symbols were incised on the wall, with the exposed red sandstone highlighting the spots where the Sinagua had once hammered through black microbial film covering the rock. There were a myriad of forms: birds, deer, humans, concentric circles, coyotes, turtles, and spirals. I spoke to the ranger about the meanings of the petroglyphs and what significance such a site might have held for the Sinagua.

Sinagua petroglyphs- clan symbols

The ranger detailed that archaeologists and anthropologists are in the process of trying to understand the intent of the glyphs; modern Hopi had assisted in trying to interpret the glyphs. A number of glyphs had been identifited by Hopi clans as being clan symbols, though interpretation of other glyphs apparently could vary by clan. In addition, a number of concentric circles on the main panel of the site indicated a solar calendar: at solstices and equinoxes, unique shadows would line up with certain symbols to denote the time of the year.

Petroglyphs with spiral

A number of glyphs at the site were very faint and are believed to predate the Sinagua and were perhaps incised by Archaic peoples more than two millenia ago.

A few notable petroglyphs that you should keep an eye out for: the running man and a caterpillar are carved into recesses to the left of the main panel.

Why did the Sinagua pick up and leave from the lush confines of Verde Valley and the Mogollon Rim, instead migrating to the dry, harsh mesas of the Colorado Plateau to become today's Hopi? The docent told us that archaeologists aren't sure, but that Hopi histories hold that it was simply time to go.

Talking to the ranger, I got an idea of the scale of pre-contact human habitation in the Southwest. It's too easy to think of the large villages at Mesa Verde and Chaco as isolated outposts in a vast American wilderness; but in reality, these landscapes were teeming with villages. In the Verde Valley, numerous small pueblos have been discovered nearby, with countless petroglyphs scattered on rocks throughout the landscape. In fact, there are so many cultural artifacts littered across the landscape that federal agencies no longer try to document them, as documentation would require a measure of protection and no agencies have sufficient funding for those purposes.

Running man petroglyph

Depending on your interest in the petroglyphs, expect to spend anywhere between two minutes and an hour at the panel. This visit has only furthered my deepening interest in Native American cultures throughout the Southwest and the continent, furthering my understanding of pre-contact America as a populated rather than a wilderness landscape.

Floe Lake

Floe Lake

13 miles round trip, 2200 feet elevation gain to Floe Lake
15.5 miles round trip, 3100 feet elevation gain to Numa Pass
Difficulty: Moderate-strenuous to Floe Lake; strenuous for Numa Pass day hike
Access: Paved road to trailhead, Canadian National Parks pass required

The cobalt waters of Floe Lake lie at the foot of an immense set of ramparts in British Columbia's Kootenay National Park known as the Rockwall. This is a location of unrivaled drama: fiery larches, towering cliffs, fracturing glaciers, and piercing blue lakes amidst a landscape scarred by massive fires a decade ago. The hike to Floe Lake is long and typically done as either an out-and-back backpacking trip or as part of a multi-night traverse of northern Kootenay National Park along the base of the Rockwall. However, strong day hikers will find Floe Lake to be a feasible day hike destination and even the sweeping views of Numa Pass are achievable to day hikers with some stamina who start early. Although the area does get a fair share of visitors, as one of the most famous spots in the Canadian Rockies, it has surprisingly avoided being overrun by tourists and day hikers; I found plenty of solitude throughout my day to and at the lake.

I hiked to Floe Lake during a weekend trip to the Canadian Rockies in which I spent a day in each of the four main parks; Floe Lake was my hike of choice for Kootenay National Park. I visited in mid-September, hoping to see the larches at peak color in the Rockies; unfortunately, I came about two weeks too early to Floe Lake and only saw a few larches that had turned for the season. I did, however, arrive late enough in the year that I spotted the aurora borealis in the dark night skies the evening before I headed out to my hike at Floe Lake.

Northern Lights

From Banff, I took Highway 1 west to Castle Junction, from which I took Highway 93 south across Vermillion Pass into Kootenary National Park and British Columbia. I followed Highway 93 south until it reached the bottom of the Vermillion River valley and pulled off at the Floe Lake Trailhead, arriving about 20 minutes before sunrise. Although there were 20 or so cars already at the lot, I appeared to be the first day hiker to arrive on a Saturday morning with excellent weather.

From the trailhead, the trail heads south through the flat valley bottom of the Vermillion River for a few hundred meters through the burnt forest. The forests of Kootenay were largely devastated by a fire in 2003 that burned nearly 40000 acres in the park; the hike itself stays almost entirely within the burn area until reaching Floe Lake.

The trail soon dropped down to the banks of the Vermillio River and crossed the river on a sturdy bridge.  The Vermillion River was a brilliant turquoise color and at the bridge, it was cutting a small canyon through the tilted sedimentary layers characteristic of the Canadian Rockies.

Vermillion River

After crossing the bridge, the trail began to head north along the river, which remained in view briefly. The trail returned to the forest but paralleled the river, which I could hear but not see. In about a kilometer, the trail came to a bridge crossing over Floe Creek. After crossing the creek, the trail began an uphill ascent along the slopes of Numa Mountain. Peering up the valley of Floe Creek, I got my first good look at the Rockwall, a vertical  spine in the Vermillion Range that defined the western boundary of Kootenay National Park. Sunrise alpenglow lit the massive cliffs of the Rockwall.

Floe Creek and the Rockwall

The trail first ascended via switchbacks along the side of the mountain facing the Vermillion River Valley, allowing nice views of the broad, mostly-burnt valley and of the peaks surrounding it. A peak that I believe was Mount Assiniboine made a brief appearance to the southeast.

The trail then made a turn into the valley of Floe Creek. For the next three miles, the trail ascended steadily as it paralleled Floe Creek far below. Unlike other hikes at a similar elevation, this stretch of trail was surprisingly open, with constant views, due to the burnt forests from the 2003 fires. It's probably a good idea to be careful for treefall in this area during times of high winds. The Rockwall was visible ahead and Isabelle Peak and Mount Ball were visible across the Vermillion River valley.

The Rockwall rises above the burnt forest

Burnt forest and Kootenay mountains

The trail corridor was well cleared for the first three miles or so of the hike, but the later portions of trail were quite brushy. As I was hiking early in the morning with no company on the trail, I knew a ran a sizable risk of running into the bear on the trail. Having neglected to buy bear spray the day before, I hoped that if I did see a bear, it wouldn't be a grizzly. My prediction soon came to pass: I found a black bear staring at me about thirty yards or so off the trail. We both gave the other a curious look; then the bear turned and disappeared into the underbrush.

Hello, bear!

I was happy to not see any other bears for the rest of the hike and surprised still that I had so little company in a relatively well-known hiking spot on such a beautiful day. I shook off the surprise of seeing the bear and continued along the trail, which soon began to approach the base of the Rockwall, where Floe Creek cascaded down steep slopes from the lake, high above. The trail had been relatively easy up to this point, with relatively gentle uphills, but after crossing a stream, the trail kicked into higher gear and began barreling uphill.

At the base of the Rockwall

At the start of the uphill, the trail crossed a fresh avalanche path, a fifty-meter wide swath of mountain slope strewn with debris. Shockingly, I found a large body of well-packed snow buried beneath this debris: this snow must have been left over the avalanche and thus meant that it had lasted from spring until late September.

Avalanche debris

Past the avalanche path, the trail committed to the climb, embarking on a steady series of switchbacks. The switchbacks danced between living and burnt forest: I had reached the outer extent of the 2003 fire. In a little over a mile, the trail climbed about 1200 feet to reach the elevation of Floe Lake. As the trail leveled out, the grim face of the Rockwall appeared before me and just barely golden alpine larches dotted the side of the trail: I had reached the basin of Floe Lake.

Just-golden larches at Floe Lake

I hiked Floe Lake in September with the intention of seeing the larches at the lake in golden color, but I soon realized that I was a bit too early for the best color. While a handful of larches had turned, for the most part, the deciduous conifers near Floe Lake were still green.

Larches near Floe Lake

Once at the lake basin, the trail stayed in the forest for another quarter mile, staying in the trees to the north of the lake. Finally, when the trail arrived at the Floe Lake Campground, I found a spur trail that led me down to a picnic area by the lakeshore.

Floe Lake has been described as one of the most beautiful places in the Canadian Rockies. While I hesitate to back up such a claim- the Canadian Rockies have a wealth of beautiful places- I was very impressed by both the lake's beauty and the imposing cliffs of the Rockwall. The fierce towers of stone rose on the other shore of the lake like the walls of an impenetrable fortress. Having missed the brief window of the day when light strikes the wall, I gazed up at the detailed lines of compressed sediment of the Rockwall darkened by a gloomy midday shadow.

Floe Lake

The color of the lake was an almost otherworldly blue in direct sunlight. The intense saturation of color of the lake made the scenery appear almost unnatural. The lake's color results from rock flour resultant from erosion by the glaciers across the lake. The remnants of a few glaciers sat at the base of the Rockwall, grinding the vertical walls into fine particulate matter. Compared with historical photographs, it was astonishing how much the glaciers had shrunk. Floe Lake's name is derived from the ice floes that used to fill the lake from glacial calving; as the glaciers have shrunk, they've ceased to produce floes, ending the unique phenomenon for which the lake was named.

Floe Lake

Leaving the lakeshore, I continued a little further along the trail and came to the warden cabin at Floe Lake. The cabin is staffed occasionally by park rangers and offers a good view down to the lake from its front porch.

Floe Lake Warden Cabin

Past the warden cabin, the trail made a turn to the north and left the lake, heading towards Numa Pass. Many day hikers will find Floe Lake itself to be a sufficient destination, but strong hikers can reap even greater rewards by continuining on to Numa Pass.

The trail climbed in fits, alternating between short steep ascents and flat strolls through open meadows. Larches were everywhere but most unfortunately were still in summer color. I found many great views of the Rockwall at the frequent clearings along the trail.

Numa Pass Trail

The trail soon began ascending in earnest, switchbacking through a forest of larch trees. As I gained elevation, I noticed increasingly more larches that had started to assume their autumn colors.

Larches on the trail to Numa Pass

As the trail finally emerged from the forest, I had an immense view of the Rockwall to the south. Floe Lake was visible at the foot of the massive ramparts of the Rockwall, which then tapered off to its southern end. The northern continuation of the Rockwall could be in nearby Mount Foster.

Floe Lake and the Rockwall from the trail to Numa Pass

The muddy trail cut through open alpine meadows to reach the pass; the last quarter mile of the trail was fairly flat, consisting mainly of a northward turn towards the pass.

Numa Pass

Whereas earlier sections of the hike had stuck to forested or meadow-covered areas, Numa Pass was a barren, rocky place. I could see along the length of the Rockwall, which stretched in either direction from the pass; to the north, a grove of larches lay high in the valley of Numa Creek. Far off, the unmistakable forms of the Ten Peaks rose near Moraine Lake. The Rockwall Trail continued through the pass, descending towards Numa Creek and the heading off for the eventual meadowlands at Wolverine and Tumbling Passes.

View along the Rockwall from Numa Pass

After briefly enjoying the views at the intensely windy pass, I decided to go a little farther for some better views and climb up the knoll just east of the pass. The views from atop this summit were much better than those from the pass and required just one last extra bit of effort (about an additional 500 feet of elevation gain). There was no trail, so I made my way up the loose pile of sedimentary rocks to the top of the ridge. Views improved steadily as I climbed until becoming absolutely stunning once I was atop the mound. The pyramidal form of Numa Peak rose nearby to the east; fresh snow coated Stanley Peak and other Kootenay summits across the valley of the Vermillion River. Mount Assiniboine, the Matterhorn of the Rockies, was buried amongst the clouds to the southeast.

Numa Peak

Far off, I could clearly make out the forms of the Wenkchemna Peaks near Moraine Lake, with snowy Mount Temple poking just above the other peaks. Hungabee and Biddle Peaks, near Lake O'Hara, were also visible. The upper reaches of nearby slopes had patches of larches in the early stages of color change, making for a particularly beautiful scene.

Hungabee, the Ten Peaks, Temple, and larches

The Rockwall defined the western skyline. An impenetrable line of cliff-faced mountains stretched to the north and south, one of the most awesome sights of the Canadian Rockies. Foster Peak rose directly across Numa Pass, while Tumbling Peak lay to the north. Floe Lake appeared to be just a pond at the foot of the Rockwall from this angle. I spotted many glacial remnants along the length of the Rockwall; it was disheartening to think that these last bits of glaciers were likely to disappear within decades.

View along the Rockwall from the knoll on the shoulder of Numa Peak

This is a spectacular hike and probably the easiest way to see Kootenay's famed Rockwall in a day. Fit hikers will find this trail to be manageable in one long summer day. With more time in the future, I'd love to return to Kootenay and hike the full length of the Rockwall and see the alpine meadows of Wolverine Pass; having seen the beauty of Floe Lake, it's hard to resist returning.

Clatsop Loop

View of Tillamook Rock Light from the top of the trail

3 miles loop, 800 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Easy-moderate
Access: Paved but narrow road to trailhead, Ecola State Park entrance fee required ($5 as of 2017)

The short Clatsop Loop in Oregon's Ecola State Park, just outside Cannon Beach, delivers outstanding views of the Northwest coastline and travels through terrain once visited by the Lewis and Clark Expedition. The best views of the hike come early in the loop, but the end of the hike also delivers a satisfying view of Tillamook Rock Light, a lonely and windswept lighthouse battered constantly by the Pacific.

I hiked this loop with my mother and sister during our trip to Oregon for the solar eclipse. The day after the eclipse, we drove out to the seashore, spending the morning at Cannon Beach before coming to Ecola State Park for the hike. To reach the trailhead from Portland, we took US 26 west from Beaverton through Tillamook State Forest and the Coast Range until reaching US 101; we then followed US 101 south for 4 miles to the turnoff for Cannon Beach, where we exited the highway. Shortly after coming off the highway, we made a right turn onto 5th St, following signs for Ecola State Park; we then followed 5th St as it narrowed, winding through the forest until it reached the Ecola State Park entrance. We made a brief stop at the Ecola State Park day use area with its iconic view of the Cannon Beach coast before driving to the end of the road at Indian Beach.

Cannon Beach viewed from Ecola State Park

The trail started at the beautiful, sandy Indian Beach, a popular waterfront access point near the wild seastacks of Ecola Point and Tillamook Head. The trailhead was at the north end of the parking lot; a sign at the trailhead detailed the loop and recommended hiking the trail counterclockwise, but we chose to tackle the loop clockwise to enjoy the views of the ocean first.

Indian Beach

The wide gravel trail headed north from the trailhead, quickly coming to a split between the Lighthouse Trail and the wider gravel road; we took the right fork for the coastal trail, which crossed a bridge over a creek and then immediately narrowed and began climbing. The trail quickly came to a series of viewpoints above Indian Beach, allowing us to look down the coast to the seastacks around Ecola Point and giving us an overhead view of the surf as it came onto Indian Beach. We also caught a closer look of columnar basalt cliffs and seastacks: even amateur geologists can easily recognize these as the result of volcanic activity. What is fascinating, though, is that there are no nearby volcanoes: these flood basalts actually flowed to Tillamook Head all the way from Eastern Washington, forming along with the Columbia Plateau flood basalts in massive eruptions over 10 million years ago.

Columnar basalt at Indian Beach

As a number of interpretive plaques on the trail point out, the Lewis and Clark expedition came to Tillamook Head and the area around Ecola State Park during their stay at Fort Clatsop, just to the north. They found the rotting corpse of a whale not too far from the current trail.

View of Indian Beach along the Lighthouse Trail

Indian Beach

This leg of the Clatsop Loop is also part of the Oregon Coast Trail, a 425-mile long distance trail covering the length of the Oregon Coast.

Past the initial viewpoints of Indian Beach, the trail continued ascending through the forest with fewer viewpoints. One of the intermediate overlooks delivered a stunning view over the ocean from a precarious, cliff-top perch. After this viewpoint, the trail delved deeper into the woods, climbing via switchbacks up the slopes of Tillamook Head.

Pacific Ocean

After the ascent topped out, the trail circled around the east side of the high point of Tillamook Head. The return leg of the Clatsop Loop- the fire road- was visible below as the trail began a gradual descent to the junction with that return trail. At the junction, I took the left fork and followed the trail a few steps further to Hikers Camp, the site of a number of small wooden structures in the forest that serves as an overnight shelter for hikers on the Oregon Coast Trail. Rather than head back from here, we chose to continue to the Tillamook Rock Lighthouse Viewpoint. This trail descended slightly through the forest until reaching a small, fenced overlook with a view out to the ocean.

The view at the end of the trail was not very wide, as trees blocked the views along the coast to either side. However, looking out, we could see the lone silhouette of Tillamook Rock Lighthouse against the fog on the sea. The setting of the lighthouse was beyond desolate. The structure- nicknamed Terrible Tilly for the punishing weather conditions it endured- stood atop a large barren rock. A staircase cut into the rock led down to the base of the island, where hundreds of sea lions were beached. At the time of its construction, the Tillamook Rock Lighthouse was the most expensive lighthouse built on the West Coast. Constant battering from the elements led to frequent damage; although the lighthouse helped many ships naviagate down the treacherous Oregon Coast, it was retired in 1957 due in part to high operational costs.

Terrible Tilly

Returning to Hikers Camp, we followed the gravel road back to the trailhead. The descent was steady as it dropped about 800 feet in slightly over a mile through the forest; we soon found ourselves back at the Indian Beach trailhead. We ended our day by driving down to Tillamook for cheese-tasting.

This hike is an easy way to see a spectacular stretch of more wild coast. It's got something for most people- history, gorgeous views, a beach. I've done scant hiking on the Oregon Coast outside of this loop so it's difficult to make comparisons, but it's difficult for me to imagine this hike being anything outside of one of the better short hikes along the coast.